Black Magic
by AdorableAki
Summary: *First Fanfic* Azazel was the groom to Sorin's daughter, and wanted only one thing- power. When he is taken from his life and thrown into the vast Multiverse, what will happen to his goals? Will he become the vampire prince of Innistrad, or will he become something else? And what exactly has he been dragged into?
1. Chapter 1 The Birth

Disclaimer: I do not own Magic: The Gathering

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Chapter 1: The Birth

There are many worlds. The grand collection of these worlds is called the Multiverse, but only a handful of people can traverse between worlds. These people are called Planeswalkers. Planeswalkers journey through the Multiverse in search of magic, creating connections to worlds they visit to increase their power and unlock powerful spells, in the form of mana. Mana is the raw magical energy found in all worlds, with five main types. Red, blue, green, white, and black- each of these colorations has different properties, and affect the spells they are used to cast.

To begin the journey, how about the story of a young man who traversed the worlds, in search of something he didn't know he wanted?

Azazel awoke at the sound of thunder. Rising from his bed, he stared outside the tall floor to ceiling window within his room. The sky was black, lightning arced from the heavens and exploded with fury. Azazel pulled back the blood red satin sheets of his king sized bed and tiptoed over to the window, his nightclothes dancing in the darkness as he moved. Running a hand through his pitch black hair, Az watched the lightning come down, the glass shuddering from the sound waves. It was a bad one tonight, but he was not surprised. Storms may not be common, but when they happened, they usually came down hard.

A large, heavy wooden door opened up with a groan on the other side of his room. It was a servant, dressed in the traditional black and red clothing those of his occupation wore in the manor of Sorin, Az's father. The servant was a gaunt, ragged looking old man with thick silver hair pulled back into a ponytail. A brass candlestick was in his left hand, the light more than sufficient for their kind. He bowed deeply in respect, and then stood up straight.

**"Sir, is the storm keeping you from your slumber?"** the servant asked, his voice barely above a haunting whisper.

Az did not face the servant, instead he looked into the servant's reflection, the Victorian style outfit visible due to the light of the candle. "I'm fine, Bernard. Storms don't scare me like they used to." It was true, Azazel, sired from Sorin himself, was afraid of thunderstorms- even though he won't admit it. He was taught to face his fears, to overcome them, or else they would consume him.

**"Would you like a drink, sir?"**

**"No, thank you, Bernard. Please return to your duties."**

Bernard bowed once again and left, the only sound was the closing of the door, the metal clanking shut loudly in the silent halls. Azazel sighed, crossing his arms and shivering. Lightning lit up the night sky once again, only to reveal a face on the other side of the window. Az gasped, and fell backwards, the figure on the other side was grinning like mad, their eyes alight like rubies in the night. It took a second for Az to register who it was, and quickly opened the window. The wind whipped into his room, blasting the curtains around and knocking a few things off the nearby furniture with various amounts of sound.

The figure stepped inside, soaked to the bone, her pale blond hair stuck to her porcelain features. **"Hello, little brother. Still scared of your own shadow, I see."**

Azazel growled and shut the window, his own ruby eyes piercing the figure like daggers. **"What do you want, Isabella?"**

Isabella was his older sister, and his betrothed. Being the only true child of Sorin, Isabella was the princess of the night. Azazel was taken in by Sorin at a very young age, and was turned two years ago on his eighteenth birthday. They were not married yet, much to Az's relief, but the time was fast approaching. Once his training was complete, they would be married and expected to continue the line.

What they did not expect, however, was that Azazel could barely stand Isabella. She was cruel, dark like her vampiric nature, violent, and enjoyed holding power over others. How someone like her came from Sorin was beyond him, as Sorin always seemed like a kind, solemn gentleman, despite being a vampire. Azazel took after the man more than his own daughter, but that did not concern Isabella. She was beautiful, obviously, but one look into her eyes would tell you that she possessed a hint of madness.

Isabella skipped over to his bed, water slipping down her clothes and puddled on the marble floor, and threw herself on to his bed. Azazel bared his fangs at her, angry that she would ruin his sheets on a whim, but she showed no signs of caring. The princess took a seductive pose, still dripping wet, and stared at Az with hooded eyes. She wore a deep red dress that flared out at the hips, with laced boots that reached her knees and black stockings. The mud from the boots tracked in on the floor and bed, annoying it's owner.

**"Oh, so you don't like it when soaking wet women visit you in the middle of the night? I see how it is..."** She grinned, lying back, her breasts nearly spilling out of the low cut dress.

Isabella appeared to be around his age, when in reality she was much, much older. He did not know her exact age, and never found out. Either way, it was obvious she was no stranger to her own body. Azazel sighed and walked around the room, ignoring the storm and his bride, as he began to tidy up the room that had fallen into disarray, picking up a few books that had fallen from the nearby dresser.

**"Ignoring me, Azzie? That's mean, and I might have to punish you."** She sang, sitting up on the bed.

Azazel was about to retort when she suddenly appeared behind him, her long, black nails at his throat as she wrapped her other arm around his shoulders. Her thumb pricked his skin, drawing blood. He made no move as she leaned forward and gave the trail of blood one, long wicked lick before the wound closed. They've been like this before, but he knew how it was. She did this because she enjoyed toying with him in any way possible, but never would she kill him. Maim him, break his bones, bleed him, sure, but never kill.

**"You still have scars from our other adventures."** Her voice was like honey, her hands trailed over his body, feeling the innumerable scars that covered his body underneath his nightclothes. **"Would you like some more?"**

The young vampire whispered, **"Will you just leave me alone?"**

Wrong answer. Her nails raked across his exposed flesh on the back of his neck, blood running down his back in seconds. He winced, and tried to turn but was thrown on to the bed. She was on top of him in seconds, pinning him down as she straddled him. A grin spread across her features, a fearsome thing that would make any other man's skin crawl. But not Azazel's, for they've done this before. She would have her fun, and he would be left in pain.

**"You can't run from me forever. Within the year, we'll be married, and there is nothing you could do about it. Don't you see? You won't be able to run away from me, we'll have each other for the rest of eternity. But gifts, gifts can break, rust, fade- rot. So, I've covered your flesh with reminders of me, so that no matter where you are, you'll always know that I'm here, always close, always waiting for your return."** Isabella's grin softened into a smirk. She leaned down and kissed his neck gently before letting her head rest on his shoulder, still pinning him down. **"Now, what do you say?"**

He sighed, knowing it was futile. If he fought back, it would only get worse.

**"I love you, Isabella."**

**"Good boy,"** she said, kissing his lips softly, though he did not kiss her back. **"Next time I see you, you better have cleaned your sheets- it looks like you pissed the bed in fright."**

With that, she was off him, and out the door, leaving it open as her footsteps echoed down the halls. Az laid there for a minute or two after she left, staring up at the ceiling, wishing that one day, he could leave this place, leave Innistrad, forever.

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It was almost dawn now, and Azazel stood atop the roof of the manor. Dressed in black pants, tall leather boots, a white male blouse, with a black, tailed overcoat that reached his ankles, the cuffs thick with lace trimmings. A hood sat around his neck, used for when he traveled in daylight, along with a cowl that rested in one of the inside pockets of the coat. A sapphire ring rested on his right thumb, while a single golden band rested on his left ring finger, symbolizing his engagement.

His pale skin was almost white, his black hair was shoulder length and fell around his face, framing it well. On his belt was a sheathed rapier, a skill he picked up from his training sessions with Sorin. Azazel sighed, watching the sky brighten on the horizon. Sorin was a Planeswalker, a traveler between dimensions, and was gone at the moment due to this. Apparently, something was happening in the Multiverse. Sorin wouldn't elaborate when asked, merely saying that it was important, and so had left to meet with a few of the other Planeswalkers.

Azazel was waiting for his return, because with Sorin gone, it was he and Isabella who ran the manor. She abused the power, creating more work for the poor servants, even hurting a few with minor injuries for the more severe wounds would be noticed by her father, and dealt with harshly. Azazel did no such thing, even going out of his way to assist them, despite their protests due to his position. It wasn't like Isabella, who enjoyed the hell she brings on to others.

He wanted power merely for it's own sake, his ambition being what kept him from running away from his demon bride. Killing was nothing for both he and his bride, sure, but Az preferred to think out his options before resorting to bloodshed, coming up with a strategy before charging in, unlike she who would rip her enemies apart like a berserker. This reserve left Az with inferior magical capabilities, in the eyes of his fiancé and himself. Black magic, the kind he, Isabella, and Sorin used, drew power from death, ambition, decay, fear, amorality- meaning that many black mages were self-serving, and willing to do anything for power.

Az was not like this, and from what he's seen, neither was Sorin. They both had powers in the black, but Az was not as devoted as Isabella, leaving him with magical abilities inferior to her own. This both angered and overjoyed him, for while he could not beat her in a fight, it meant he was still kinder than her, and retained his humanity. In Innistrad, black mana reigned supreme, leaving it's occupants little choice in how they fought.

The swamps, crypts, and wastelands of this world gave them power, and they gladly accepted it. He wanted so badly to find a different source of power, like Sorin had. If he could find his own talents, his own power, then perhaps he could challenge Isabella, prove that he was the stronger. Maybe then he could ascend to power, with her as his obedient wife. The thought made him grin, until he saw the sunlight begin to peek through the trees.

Azazel was about to return to the safety of the manor, as sunlight burned vampires, when he heard a voice. It was a small sound, but felt far away. Az turned, looking at everything around him, trying to find the source, but saw no one. The wind wasn't even blowing. There it was again! That echo of a voice, calling from so close but so far away. It sounded louder this time, and coming from everywhere at once.

**"Show yourself!"** He yelled, drawing his rapier, prepared for a fight.

He didn't expect a hand to reach out of nothing, grab him by the collar, and pull him into blackness.

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Azazel felt like he was falling through endlessness. Colors exploded around him at high speeds, and he felt electricity run through his body as if struck by lightning. Suddenly, it all stopped, and shimmered like the surface of water before his eyes. He fell to his knees, shocked, frightened, and exhausted. The ground around him was scorched, blackened by fire, or energy. Sweat beaded his brow, and so he took deep breathes as he pushed himself to sit on his legs.

Eyes widening, he could not believe what he saw. No longer was he on the roof of the manor, he was in the middle of a forest- but not those of Innistrad. The forests of Innistrad were marshes, bogs, not the lush, lively things before him now. There was so much green he could scarcely see anything else. The sun was setting, the sky orange with the last light of the day. Birds chirped around him, their songs a thing of beauty to his ears.

He attempted to stand, but found his legs were like jelly, and so he fell to one knee. Fear gripped his heart, for what had happened? This place was not Innistrad- he could feel it in his bones- so where was he? How did he get here? Would he be able to get home? Was he in danger? He checked his belt, noting that he still had his scabbard, the sword still in his right hand. Not only that, but in his pocket was his library.

A library, to a mage, was the name of his collection of spells. They came in the form of cards, and each spell could be cast with sufficient mana. Every spell was different, no two being exactly alike, which meant strategy was essential to victory. Az's library was small, due to his inferior abilities, but at least he wasn't defenseless.

Finally, he was able to stand, albeit unsteadily. Sword in hand, he attempted to get through the thick forest, but progress was difficult. Roots wound through the ground, making footing uneven. Branches, bushes, and other plants were blocking his movement, forcing him to take certain paths, or to go through them as best he could. Animals called in the distance, the air alive with the life all around him. It was strange, almost alien, to the undead prince.

He could feel the mana here, the power of nature. It was wild, ferocious, strength at it's purest level. Az wondered, how many mages would be here, in this strange place? He suspected many would utilize this power, and green mages, or mages of nature, gained power from forests such as these, where the wild reigns supreme, and their spells were nothing to mess with. Green magic ran against his own black magic, as green magic was life, growth, and abundance, whereas black was death, decay, and greed.

His magic would find no friends here.

Azazel found a clearing, the sun gone from the world. Looking up, he saw the stars in their full glory, something he never had the pleasure of witnessing before. He was caught up in the awe of it, for he could see everything with crystal clarity- the stars, the galaxies, it was all laid bare before him. He smiled a genuine smile for the first time in what felt like years, brought on not by malice or the pain of others, but the simple beauty of the world around him.

A twig snapped nearby, and he fell into an attack stance, rapier pointing towards the sound. The birds were silent now, the world turning dark and cold. He felt the chill as he examined the spot where he heard the noise, fear running down his spine. What could it be? An animal, most likely, or some ungodly creature that wanted to eat him. Knowing his luck, that's what it would be, or worse, it'd be Isabella.

Without warning, something shot from the bushes, and attached to his sword. He saw it only for a second, a long white thread, before it yanked his weapon from his hand. As soon as he lost his weapon, a spider jumped from the bushes, a large brown recluse about the size of a Rottweiler. Az took a step back in fear, but the spider stood up on it's back legs and shot another thread at him, hitting his chest.

The spider came at him quickly, running around him, preventing his escape as it drug him to the ground and wrapped him up in it's silk. His mind raced with escape plans, but none would be very useful at the moment... unless... He concentrated, calling upon the mana of Innistrad, the energy of the swamps, tombs, and wastes that made up his home before calling out, **"Tormented Soul!"**

A phantom materialized before him, it's translucent, skeletal figure floating above the ground in a wispy cloak, it's haunting red eyes staring down at him. Tormented Soul was a summoning, a low leveled summoning any basic black mage could conjure, but being a spirit gave it the ability to never be blocked. He screamed, **"Help me!"** before the spider used it's silk to shut his mouth. The order was issued, however, and the ghost fell on to the spider, swatting it away with it'd undead hands from his master.

The spider was not dead, but it was now pissed. Unfortunately, the ghost could not block the spider, and so should it come at him again, it'd have to go for a direct attack to get it off him again. With his mouth shut, he doubted he'd be able to issue orders to the spirit now. The most skilled mages were able to send mental commands to their summons, but Az was not on that level. He was panicking when he heard someone.

**"Enough, hold your evil specter back."** Called a feminine voice.

Azazel, still trapped by the spider's silk, watched as a woman came out from the bushes where the spider had been. She was tall, with short, choppy brown hair that only reached her jaw line. Her clothing was somewhat revealing, a black body suit that exposed her abdomen, and was low cut to reveal a slight amount of cleavage. She had a lightly armored silver breast plate, pauldrons, skirt, and boots. On her back was a bow and quiver, filled with arrows. On her belt, he saw, she had a small leather case. Most would see it and think it simply an accessory, but he knew better.

This woman was a mage, and that case was used to hold her library.

She tucked some hair behind her ear as the spider crawled to her and up her body, resting on her back and part of her shoulder, watching the vampire it had trapped in it's web. Azazel put two and two together, and figured the spider had been her summoning. Otherwise, it probably would have bit him and her before bringing out the damn web. Something else he noted was that she was around his apparent age, maybe a year or two older, and had pointed ears.

She was an elf, something he's only heard of in stories.

The fact she was en elf brought down a hard truth. There were none of her kind in Innistrad, which meant either she was a Planeswalker in this unknown part of his world, or he was in her's, and he had traversed through the worlds. He seriously felt like he was going to be sick now, but with the web covering his mouth, he'd only throw up in his own mouth and drown in his own vomit.

**"You are a black mage, if your summoning there says anything."** Her lips curled, **"What the hell is a black mage doing here? Your kind are not welcome in the forests."**

Az gave her a look that said, _'are you stupid?' _as he struggled to make sounds from his gagged mouth, the Tormented Soul beside him floating harmlessly with a dead expression, no pun intended.

She smirked and chuckled a bit, **"Oh, sorry, forgot." **

The elf walked forward, drawing a knife from behind her back. Az's eyes widened as she brought it close to his face, going stiff as a board just before she sliced the webbing from his mouth. He sighed in relief when she stepped back, and he looked up to meet her eyes. Bad move on his part, because from this angle, he could see up her armored skirt. Pale face going red, he looked away as he began to sweat.

It took the elf a moment to realize what he had been looking at, and when she figured it out, her features were just as red as his. She growled and brought her foot up, stomping on his head, beating it into the mud. Storming away, she put more distance between them as she screamed, **"Pervert! You're a damn pervert!" **

Pulling his face out of the mud, the vampire prince was practically seeing stars when he muttered, **"I-I'm not, it's just..." **

"**If you try that again, I'll skin you alive, got it?!"** She was fuming, the spider on her back growing agitated.

**"Got it, won't happen again."** Az laid his face on the ground, disoriented after that beating. **"Just please don't smash my face into the earth again."**

She 'hmphed', and crossed her arms, **"So, what are you doing here?" **

**"Honestly, I have no idea. I was standing on the roof of my master's manor, and next thing I knew, I'm in the middle of this overgrown forest getting my ass kicked by an elf and her spider."** He looked up, making sure to avoid anything but her eyes. **"I was trying to find out where I was, and get home."** No point in lying to her at this point, though he thought about it. The situation called for hard logic and planning, and right now, no lie he could come up with would be beneficial.

**"And I'm to believe you, a black mage, enemies of nature magic?"** Her eyes narrowed.

**"My lady,"** he adopted his previously forgone noble way of speaking, **"why would I lie to you? I'm caught in your trap, my life is in your hands. Lying would only serve to get me killed at this point." **

**"So, you would lie if the situation would allow it? Nice to know..."** She sighed and looked to the specter, still hovering. **"Send that infernal thing away immediately, if I wanted to kill you, I would have let my spider do the job. That damn thing gives me the creeps."** With a snap of her fingers, the spider vanished into mist, but it's web remained.

Az smirked. Now would be the perfect time to order the spirit to attack her, but he was still trapped, and if she had set up the trap, then she was ready for counter measures- meaning she would be charged with more mana than he at the moment. Fine, he would do as she said, albeit grudgingly. He looked to the specter, and said, **"Leave us."** The creature vanished into mist like the spider, leaving nothing behind.

**"So, will you cut these webbings off of me, or will you leave me to rot?"** He smiled, his fangs visible. He noticed she seemed taken aback by the sight, and that made him smile wider. Just the look of fear pass over her made excited him a bit.

**"Fine, but only your legs. You are coming with me."** She said as she stepped closer, but stopped and glared until he buried his face into the ground. After that, she got closer, knife ready, and cut upwards between his legs, getting dangerously close to his nethers before the coat tail's ended and kept the knife from going higher. She helped him stand, and putting her hands on his shoulders to steady him.

His back was to her, the web still clinging to him in places and restricting movement of his arms and hands. Az stood up straight and looked over his shoulder at her, peeved. Being at another's mercy bothered him, bringing back memories of Isabella. From the look the elf was giving him, she was enjoying this. Pushing him lightly forward, he took steps in the direction indicated before she passed him and took the lead.

They were walking through the forest, the trees winding and creating intricate paths that had to be taken. The vampire did not enjoy this, but she felt right at home. Looking over her shoulder occasionally, she thought about what this could mean. A black mage, here of all places, obviously not from here. His clothes were strange, foreign to this world, which meant he had to be a Planeswalker. Not only that, but his canine teeth were sharp, indicating vampirism. She had never seen one before now, but stories were told among her clan of his kind, how they drank the blood of the living, killed on a whim, and would steal children from their beds to join their undead ranks.

She did not trust him to not turn on her, after all, black magic was attuned to such actions like betrayal. Yet, the more she spoke with him, the more she saw, the less he seemed like the devil they portrayed such mages as. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she thought about how he had become embarrassed at seeing under her skirt- a typical black mage would not have given a damn about that kind of thing, but he did. It wasn't exactly much to go on, but something else bothered her.

When she had first saw him, he had been staring up at the sky with wonder, and childish joy. He looked so innocent in that moment that is was scary, for she knew that he couldn't be such, no black mage could be. It made her wonder if he was truly, whole-heartedly a villain, or if he was simply using the hand that fate had dealt him. Such a thought actually made her frown. What kind of life would he of had to of had to drive him towards black magic?

Part of her prayed she never found out.

The forest opened up a bit, the trees growing taller and thicker. After a while, Az noticed that above them, in the trees, were wooden buildings built in the branches, connected by bridges, ramps, and wooden walkways. He marveled at the ingenuity of the crafters, and while he gawked, he noticed people were walking on them, going about their day. That was when he noticed a small child looking over the rope of a bridge down at him. The child's ears were pointed.

So, this was the elven settlement. He looked at his captor as she led him further along the forest floor, and met her eyes. She quickly broke eye contact, and so he continued to look around. The homes were built in accordance to nature, working with it rather than against it. It was admirable, he thought, as it probably strengthened the green mana these people could harness.

A rope ladder unrolled before them from one of the walkways above. The elf girl smiled and waved to the elves above, and he deadpanned, **"How am I supposed to get up there?" **

She looked down at his feet, and so he did soon after, confused. He was standing on some fallen leaves, but in a second the leaves were disturbed and a vine ensnared him by the ankles. He was whipped from the ground, the vine pulling him skyward as he screamed. When it was over, he was dangling upside down by his ankles at eye level with some of the elves on the walkways.

Looking down at the elven girl below, he yelled, **"What is your name?"**

She laughed, and called up, **"Amaya!"**


	2. Chapter 2 The Attack

Disclaimer: I do not own Magic: The Gathering.

htffan951 : Thank you for enjoying the first chapter, and I'll take your advice. I'll keep writing as long as I know people are reading.

If anyone has any reviews, or simply wants to let me know what they think, feel free to send your thoughts my way. I enjoy hearing from readers.

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Chapter 2: The Attack

Azazel was sitting cross legged in one of the wooden homes that the elves called home, a fire-pit before him filled with moss that lit up the room like fire. It was truly marvelous, but that wasn't his main focus. No, his main focus was the elven elder that sat across from him, while a well built elf in gold and black gilded armor stood beside the black mage, his hand on his longsword. Az smirked, but he caught the glance of Amaya, who was standing on his left. His smirk vanished.

"What has brought this stranger to our midst?" The elder asked slowly, the wrinkles on his face deep set like cracks in the earth. His hair was long and flowed down his back, silver in color, and he wore a simple white robe, with greed leaf designs all down the arms. Probably a symbol of his station.

"He claims to not know where he is, or how he got here." Amaya supplied.

"Must I really be bound?"Azazel whined, struggling against the spider's silk for emphasis.

This earned him a glare from the armored elf, who back smacked Azazel upside the head, "You will speak when spoken to, monster."

Az glared at the elf, his ruby red eyes glowing with contained rage. He went quiet as Amaya spoke up again, giving Az a pitiful look. "I am inclined to believe him, Elder. He was stumbling about the forest like a toddler taking their first steps, clueless to the dangers."

"I was not stumbling!" Az said, only to be hit by the elf again before he growled out, "If he hits me one more time, I'll rip out his throat and feast on his heart!"

Amaya's eyes widened a bit, but the Elder seemed unfazed. The armored elf smirked, "And how are you going to do that, bound as you are?"

"Enough, Geleborn. You're only agitating him." The Elder said, his tone like that of a father scolding a troublesome child.

Geleborn, the armored elf, glared at Az one more time before standing up straight and crossing his arms, obviously displeased. The vampire grinned, his fangs visible in the light of the hut. It was obvious Azazel enjoyed watching the elf's angry grow, and so Amaya cleared her throat to get the conversation back on track. Az looked away finally, staring to the glowing moss, going silent.

"Elder, while this vampire is not harmless, it is obvious his coming here was not intentional. If it was, wouldn't he have been more careful, more prepared?" Amaya looked to Az, "Isn't that right, bloodsucker?"

"If you're going to insult me, woman, try something more original." Az rolled his eyes, "And yes, I did not come here intentionally. I don't even know where here is. Honestly, if I had a choice, I would have gone to a brothel. At least there I could have fun being tied up."

Amaya's face turned red as Geleborn actually held back a chuckle. The Elder was not amused, his face not even twitching from the perverted statement. "What is your name, vampire?"

"Azazel, just Azazel. And you are?" The vampire's bored expression told the Elder that he wanted to be freed, but there was little chance of that happening right now.

"Azazel the vampire..."The Elder said it slowly, as though getting used to the name. "You truly do not know where you are?"

"You ask me a question, and do not respond with an answer, merely another question. Terrible manners, that. An answer for an answer, I'm afraid."The vampire clucked his tongue and looked to Amaya, a smile gracing his features. "I liked you more than this one."

She glared at him, the thought of slapping him crossing her mind, but she was brought out of her anger by the Elder's words. "I am Elder Hasirhan, the leader of this village. Now, answer my question."

"You already know what I will say, so why ask? If I knew where I was, wouldn't I have avoided this one?" He gestured over to Amaya with his chin.

"Maybe you planned this, maybe you wanted us to capture you, as part of your plan."

"Do I really look like a guy with a plan?"

The Elder sighed and looked Az dead in the eye, "Perhaps you are speaking the truth. If so, what do you want?"

"To get out of these bindings, for one. I would also like to rest and return to my home." Az looked back to the moss, tired of this conversation. He was thirsty, and despite the sun being down, back when he left this would be around the time he fell asleep.

"You cannot honestly expect us to just unbind you. We are not so naive to let a monster walk among us, unchallenged. I can see it in your eyes, Azazel, you are looking for sustenance, the blood your kind desires."

"Back in Innistrad, there are many of us. We hunt, or have servants hunt for us. It is not so different for you, I suspect, though you have a different diet than I."

The Elder's eyes hardened, his expression darkening. "You are from Innistrad?"

Azazel nodded once, noting the change in the elf's demeanor. "Yes, I suspect you've heard of it?"

"Are you with Solin Markov?"

Azazel narrowed his eyes, "You know of Solin?"

"Answer the question."

"I've heard of him," Az lied smoothly, "though I've never met him. So, am I still in Innistrad, or not?"

"You are in Naya, of the Shards of Alara."

Azazel actually slumped at that knowledge. He was in another realm of existence, far from Innistrad, Isabella, and Sorin. In Naya, he had read, black and blue mana was nonexistent. Here, only red, green, and white ruled, the denizens sought to respect and revere nature, which explained a lot. He could not draw more power from this place, meaning what he had from Innistrad was all he was going to get while he remained. This was bad, very bad, for what if they tried to kill him? He'd grow weak eventually, as his mana was limited to begin with...

In Alara, the Shards were the names of the worlds that become of the original plane after the Sundering, the cataclysm that tore the plane into five separate worlds. Each world was absent of two of the five mana types, with Naya being absent of black and blue mana. Each world had a different combination, but now he was scared.

"H-How did I get here? I'm not a Planeswalker, it has to be some kind of trick!" Az raised his head, his expression dark, "What the hell am I doing here? Did someone summon me? No, I never made a contract..."

"Azazel," Amaya said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Calm yourself-"

He glared at her, his ruby eyes flashing dangerously. "I just learn that I've traversed the realms, and you ask me to calm down?"

Amaya would admit he had a point, but panicking would do him no good. She kept her hand there, and the Elder eyed her carefully, a silent warning passing from his stare to the young elven woman. _Watch yourself._ It was simple, and had obvious reasons, but Amaya didn't seem to care at the moment. No, right now, she was too focused on the twitching vampire with wide eyes, like a frightened deer.

"What good will panicking do? Obviously, you've just come into your Planeswalking powers-"

"I'm not a Planeswalker!" he yelled, furious.

"Stop interrupting me!" she yelled back with equal rage. The elf grabbed the vampire's shoulders, and forced him to face her as she leaned in close to whisper through gritted teeth, "You may be undead, but you are male, and I know how to hit where it hurts, so shut your mouth before I make sure you can never return to your brothels again!"

That shut him up.

Geleborn was glaring at the both of them, distaste obvious on his features. He wanted nothing more than to behead the damn monster and be done with it, but Amaya and the Elder insisted on speaking to it, letting it remain in it's mockery of life for seconds more. It was insulting to their beliefs, plain and simple, and that was enough to make Geleborn's sword hand itch for the familiar weight of his longsword.

"Are you quite through?" the Elder asked, irritated. Amaya flushed and pushed Az back gently, making him take a half-step back to steady himself. "Now, let me be perfectly clear with you Azazel: you are not to be trusted. A vampire, an abomination in the eyes of our way of life, coming from another world, with black magic at his beck and call? I hope you can see why we cannot permit you to roam free. Despite that, I would prefer to not have you killed. So far, you have done nothing that would warrant a hostile reaction whilst in my presence. Therefore, we shall let you live- for now, until you can cross back over into your home realm."

Azazel looked at the Elder, his eyes smoldering, "I've told you, I'm not-"

"Obviously," The Elder thundered, his eyes piercing the vampire worse than any stake could, "you did not arrive here through a summoning, as you would have been brought before your master like a common creature fit for battle. Therefore, the next likely cause for your sudden appearance is that you are a dormant Planeswalker, and only just have realized your powers. You may not feel them now, as the first traverse must have been a mistake if you cannot, but that does not mean they are not there-"

"The hand!" Azazel said, only just remembering.

All three elves looked at him with confusion, but it was Amaya who spoke, "The hand?"

"I remember a hand, reaching through the darkness! It's what grabbed me, and the next thing I knew, I was here in your realm," Az confessed, looking concerned. "But, who's hand was it?"

Amaya looked at him with pity. The vampire's sarcasm was gone, and was replaced with uncertainty. It was strange to her, that such a monster could look so vulnerable, so frightened. No doubt if she stated this he would be angered, and so she kept her observation to herself, but the thought was still there. She could almost forget that he was a black mage, but his blood red eyes and the memory of the phantom he had summoned were still hard reminders of his true power and allegiance.

The Elder sighed, irritation and exhaustion evident on his ancient features. "A hand, Azazel? No one could have reached their hand across the Multiverse and pulled you into an unknown world. You must be a Planeswalker, vampire, there is simply no other way you could have come!"

It was obvious the old elf was losing patience, and Az gave him a hard, equally exhausted look, "I'm not a Planeswalker. I would have known if I traversed, would I not?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not, I would not know. However, I doubt we'll come up with an answer in the dead of night. Amaya, Geleborn, take him to the cells and make sure he cannot escape."

Azazel sighed, and cleared his throat, which was growing more and more parched. "Elder, I require a drink."

The Elf sent him a white hot glare, "Then drink your own blood. Get him into the cells, now."

Geleborn roughly gripped Az's shoulders and shoved him towards the door, while Amaya looked to the Elder one last time. The vampire was escorted, or should she say 'pushed', outside and made way for the cells, the metal jail cells that were located almost on the other side of the village, which maintained guards twenty-four hours a day, to ensure no one would escape without a fight. Amaya had no doubt that for all of Geleborn's abuse, Az would be fine. The vampire seemed deep in thought as he left, not even snapping for the shove.

"Elder," Amaya said, "this vampire-"

"Stop right there, Amaya." The Elder interrupted, rubbing his temples, "I know what you are going to say, so don't even bother. Regardless of how he arrived, he is dangerous, and must be dealt with. I believe him when he says he does not know how he came here, but that is all. This means that he is utterly alone, with no one coming to his aid."

"He isn't the monster we've been portraying him as, you saw it just as I did! He's scared, and just wants to go home."

"That he may, but we have no choice. He is a black mage, and a vampire, the very thing we stand against in Naya, he must be destroyed before he can infect any of us with his taint."

"Elder, with all due respect, Azazel isn't hostile! Sarcastic and irritating, yes, but he has only acted in self-defense! You know as well as I, that if he wanted to, he probably could have escaped by now, regardless of the web that binds him." Her eyes were pleading, her voice raising without her realizing, "Why can't we help him?"

"Amaya, silence!" The Elder snapped, his deep green eyes burning into her soul, "My decision is final. Azazel shall die the moment the sun rises, and you will remember your place!"

* * *

Azazel was shoved into the cold cell, the web still binding him. Geleborn had taken his library from him, much to the vampire's outrage, but there was little he could do at this point. The elf strapped Az's belt over his own, grinning with delight in angering the monster now stuck inside a prison cell. With that, he left, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it from the outside. Two guards, both wearing armor similar to Geleborn's wielding short swords, stood on either side of the exit to the three celled prison house in the tallest tree of the village.

Az sat down in the center of the cell, and stared up at the ceiling. He was not an idiot- if they had no intention of feeding him, then he was as good as dead anyway. A vampire dying of thirst was utter hell. He's seen it happen to others before, watched as starved undead hunt in the night, their malnourished bodies and sunken in eyes resembling a zombie more than a vampire. Az had no intention of dying such a horrible death, no way in hell.

Without his library, he only had his own strength to rely on, but it was ebbing with every minute that he went without sating his thirst. The longer he waited, the worse it could become. He was not keen on waiting to see if they planned to kill him quickly, slowly, or in the best case scenario, let him go. Azazel was going to get out of here, and there was nothing these elves were going to say that would stop him.

Standing up, Azazel took a deep breath and then said quite loudly, "I need to piss."

The guards merely looked at him.

"I need to piss," he repeated, "unless you want me to piss all over these floors, leaving a nice smell to them for the entirety of the night, then would you mind helping me go to the privy?"

Both guards looked at each other, until one spoke up, "We've dealt with worse."

Azazel deadpanned, "All I consume is blood from the dying, if that gives you an idea of what you're saying you're prepared for."

One screwed up his face, while the other sighed, "Fine, but we're both coming with to make sure you do not escape."

He shrugged, "I've dealt with worse."

That was true, after all, he's been Isabella's toy for a long time now- having two elves watch him relieve himself was nothing compared to the embarrassment and torture she put him through.

One of the guards walked forward, producing a key from a ring on his leather belt. Slowly, keeping his eyes on Az while his comrade waited, sword drawn, behind him, he opened the cell door. The hinges creaked an awful high pitched screech that hurt the vampire's sensitive hearing. Az was beckoned forward, and he did as was told, being led further into the jail, where a bucket was sitting in the corner of the room with a curtain pulled back beside it, which would have allowed some small amount of privacy.

However, they were not about to let him close the curtain, and so he had to do his business with their eyes boring into the back of his head. Az looked over his shoulder before he turned to face them, and said, "I can't use my hands." This was the truth, as he would have used his library given the chance, but they too were bound by the web. The guard on his left gave a deep sigh and got down on one knee, muttering profanities under his breath while his comrade was trying not to laugh at the sight of him undoing a prisoner's trousers.

He had just begun to undo the ties that secured Az's pants when the vampire's knee came up and smashed into his jaw, knocking his head back with enough force to give him whiplash. The guard fell back on to his rear while his comrade went to swing his sword, just realizing what had happened. Az ducked, as the swing had been high before bringing his foot up and kicking the guard in his nethers. The guard clutched himself involuntarily, sword in hand, before Az brought his head forward, smashing it into the forehead of the elf.

The second one fell, unconscious, as the first one was regaining his senses, and attempted to stand. Az spun and kicked the elf in the side of the head, blood now running down the wound left by his boot as the elf went out cold. The vampire's appetite had awakened, the call of the blood before him tempting him worse than any woman ever could. Az's eyes flashed with power and thirst, his fangs aching for the flesh he loved to pierce to receive the sweet nectar of the gods. Falling to his knees, mouth opening wide, he was a breath away from biting into the flesh of the first guard when something shook the jailhouse.

He was shaken out of his blood lust, sense returning to him. Screams were heard outside, and in that moment, a chain smashed through the wooden walls of the jailhouse, clashing loudly with the bars of the cells, and taking out the entire cell that Azazel had been in only a minute before. The chains were large, rusty or covered in dried blood, and what scared him most was the fact that every few links or so was a skull, or a severed head, that had become a link in the chain itself, their dead eyes lighting up as if fire burned in their sockets. The hellish chain tore through the iron bars as if it were butter, slicing the metal with an ungodly noise, and tearing through cell after cell, as if searching through something.

A second chain crashed through the wood like a wrecking ball, this one on the outside of the cells, about ten feet in front of Azazel. It whipped through the wood as if possessed, tearing everything in it's wake apart. The vampire was trapped, and he knew it. Cursing under his breath, his mind was racing with ideas when the door to the jail burst open, only to reveal Amaya, looking pale and winded from a long, fearful sprint. Behind her, Az could see more chains whipping about the air, crashing into huts and bridges, ripping people out of their homes or off of the platforms that held up the village.

"We have to get out of here!" She screamed before reaching into her leather case and pulling out a card. Holding it out in front of her, she said with fierce determination, "Kavu Predator!"

A beast came forth from the card, forming from mist and materialized in front of the beautiful elven woman. It's skin was green, while it's underside was yellow. The thing looked thin, malnourished, and it's claws were short and hooked, but it's teeth were long, and made for piercing flesh. The creature was fairly large, the spines on it's back almost touching the ceiling of the jailhouse, so thankfully it walked on all fours. Drool escaped it's jaws as it growled, staring down the vampire with an unsettling hunger.

"Stop that chain!" She ordered it, and watched as it's focus went from the vampire, to the chain whipping ever closer to the undead. The beast charged, and roared, before pouncing on it, it's hooked claws useful in this instance. The chain did not seem to like being stopped, and so began to struggle, making the beast jerk this way and that from the sheer strength of the chain.

Az was amazed that she would even think of coming here to save him, but his amazement died when he remembered he had two guards in here. She had probably come for them, and assumed the chains had knocked them out or something. Either way, he knew better than to hope for her actually caring about his safety.

"They're out cold!" He yelled, "Hope you know how to catch!"

She looked confused, but realization lit up in her eyes when the vampire spun and kicked the guard he had headbutted, sending him flying across the jailhouse and past the beast and chain, to land at Amaya's feet. Az did the same with the last guard, making sure to hit him in the breastplate. With both guards now safe, he ran for it, only for the chain to break free just as he passed.

A severed head from the chain bit into Azazel's calf, and pulled hard. He winced, and screamed, as he was being pulled by the chain out of the hole it had made to get in. Eyes wide with fear, he kicked and screamed as the gaping hole drew ever closer.

The Kavu dashed forward and pounced on the chain again, stopping it for a little while. Azazel kicked the head with all of his might using his free leg, and let out a blood curdling scream when it was knocked off, taking the meat of his calf with him. Amaya rushed to his side, and pulled him away from the chain just in time before it wrapped around the Kavu's waist, bit into it's flesh, and pulled it through the opening, the creature's body too massive for the hole, and so it was broken in half with the most sickening series of snaps and gurgles Az had ever heard before it was taken through.

Amaya's eyes were tearful, her body shaking with terror at what she had just witnessed. Azazel was gritting his teeth, white hot pain coming from the torn remains of his left leg. Looking up at her, and seeing her expression, he grunted, "W-What is it?"

"Ghoultree," she whispered as tears rolled down her cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3 The Ghoultree

Alright, sorry for the shorter length of this one, and the late update. Finals over the week, and this weekend was a festival that I was enjoying. Now, thank you for those who have read and enjoyed this work, please review and continue to read, for I love to hear from you.

Just to spice things up, I'm going to start something. Every new arc I start, I'm going to call out for someone to submit a character of their design to take place in it. It can be a villian, an ally, comic relief- anything, as long as it does not interfere with the story I have envisioned.

The next arc will start not next chapter, but the one after. So, the first person to review and send a character profile will get their character in that arc. Please submit a physical description and personality for them, as well as possible abilities or other things that could be relevant to the story, or them as a whole. This next arc will take place in Ravenica, so keep that in mind.

Should no one submit, no one other than my own characters shall be featured. I'll continue to do this for as long as it is successful, so let's see what you can bring to the table. Also, if you have your character featured in an arc, and submit another one later, please know that those who do submit, and have never had one featured, will be placed above yours. Nothing personal, just trying to keep things fair. Not only that, but your character might not survive, but I'm sure there will be many who do simply because I grow attached to characters, including my own, so easily.

**hffman:** thank you for the continued support, it's always great to hear from you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Magic: The Gathering.

* * *

Sorin was sitting in a padded seat, one of many, around a large, circular stone table. Before him was a goblet of blood, still full. The vampire was not in a good mood, but this gathering of Planeswalkers was necessary. On the other side of the table was Jace Beleran, the living Guildpact. The human male was dressed in his usual robes, hood up, and looking as deep in thought and troubled as Sorin. This was, after all, an emergency meeting.

Beside him was Lavinia, who gave Jace a worried glance. Chandra Nalaar was beside Sorin, to his distaste. Out of all the Planeswalkers to be present, the fact that she was here meant something was very wrong. The self-proclaimed 'hater of white magic' looked anxious, arms crossed, her eyes flitting from one person to the next. Also present was Ajani, which obviously tested Chandra's patience, Kiora, the merfolk Planeswalker, as many seemed to refer to her as.

There were a couple of other Planeswalkers among them, all seemingly nameless to more than a few of the others, but that did not matter at this point. Right now, they had a problem, one that could signal the end of them and their respected planes. Jace stood up, cleared his throat, and said, "I'm assuming you all know why we are here? If that's the case, let us begin-"

"Finally!" Chandra interrupted, a scowl on her face.

Jace sent her a glare, as did Sorin and Lavinia, but did not let it get to him. "As you are aware, things have been happening in the planes- shockwaves have been felt both physically, and mentally, among all of us, and all seem to be happening simultaneously. It started small, like tremors in the earth, until we each began to feel pain the more these tremors came up. I've been investigating these tremors, and gained a premonition. This vision has shown me destruction on a massive level, millions of lives lost on all planes. More than that, it's shown me... well, that everyone gathered here shall die before the year ends."

This caused a stirring among the gathered. Sorin and Chandra actually rose from their seats in rage, while others held mixed expressions on suspicion and fear.

"How can you be so sure?" Sorin said, "Did this vision of yours say how, or why?"

"Why should we even believe your vision anyway?" Chandra yelled, the most emotional of those present.

"Silence!" Livinia barked, only to have Jace place a hand on her shoulder as he addressed their concerns.

"I do not know how our deaths come exactly, or when, but I believe it is tied to something going on in the Multiverse."

They each waited patiently for him to continue, though some fidgeted in their seats.

"I'm sure you've felt it. That constriction in your chest, the dizziness that comes and goes. The quakes that seem to be disrupting our respective homes and the planes we visit. This... frightens me. Something is tearing at the planes, something unimaginable, and in doing so is tearing at each of us. This isn't just happening to us, and our homes. I've traveled to multiple planes where I have never met another Planeswalker, and felt the tremors." Jace took a deep breath, and then looked to everyone with tired eyes. "I fear something is destroying the planes, or at least trying to."

"What could cause such a thing, if that's true?" Kiora asked, her voice skeptical.

"I don't know," Jace replied honestly, "but I know that we cannot-"

The mind-mage could not finish before an explosion tore his words from his mouth, and the large, heavy metal doors that led to their room were blown apart from the outside.

* * *

Azazel, using Amaya as support, his arm over her shoulder, stood shakily, wincing from the pain and white as the driven snow from blood loss. After cutting the web from his body, he now had full use of his arms. His blood pooled around their feet, but refused any form of aid, ordering her to help him move before the chains returned. The elven girl, still in a stupor, numbly nodded and did as she was told, her body trembling as she did so, the stains her tears left on her angelic face shined in the minimal light of the glowing moss that lined the ceiling of the hut.

The vampire did not blame her reaction. Something as monstrous, and terrifying, as Ghoultree was not something one dealt with in ease. Az knew of the abomination, but never witnessed one before now. Supposedly, they attacked life, plain and simple, and consumed it, making it apart of it's wooden body, drawing power from the dead. Not only that, but something unsettled the vampire about the appearance of the Ghoultree, but before he could voice it, a scream assaulted his hearing.

Amaya was looking over her shoulder as a chain burst through the floor of the jail hut, whipping around madly, the heads in it's lengths searching the room with dead, unfocused eyes. Azazel saw it whip around towards them, trying to find more life to consume, and would have taken their heads off if the vampire had not pushed back with his good leg, knocking them off balance. Together, they fell into the doorway that led out of the hut and on to the platforms that surrounded the hut and those surrounding it.

He pushed with his good leg again, scrambling to pull both of them out of that deathtrap, and then kicked the door shut, leaving the two guards he had knocked unconscious inside. Though this would do nothing to stop the chains, it at least made him feel a bit better. Amaya looked to be in shock as she stared out at her treetop village, the ramps being torn down by the chains, friends and comrades ripped from their homes, the platforms, or just the trees themselves in varying degrees of life. Blood sprayed as the chains ripped off limbs, smashed victims around like ragdolls on the hard surfaces, or even fed as they wrapped around the bodies of those unlucky enough to be caught.

` Screams filled her ears, the trees shook violently from the power of the whipping metal, and some attempted to fight back, screaming orders over the unholy chorus of death. She had never witnessed such carnage, such hellish destruction, the elven woman could not tear her eyes away. It was Azazel who broke her from her trance, as she gripped her shoulder with enough strength that it hurt, which made her looked directly into his eyes. What she saw was concern, pain, and a lust for blood. The vampire was quickly losing consciousness due to blood loss, and that scared her even more.

"R-Run, damnit," Az stammered, his voice breaking through to her amongst the scene around them, "Amaya, escape... Hurry."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Azazel once again surprised her, and she momentarily forgot what was happening. This black mage, a vampire, the very enemy to her culture and way of life, was telling her to save herself. It both warmed her heart and stabbed it, for was it out of compassion, or her lack of power to fight effectively? She didn't know exactly, but that didn't matter. Wiping her eyes angrily, her cheeks burning, she glared at the vampire with all the rage she could muster.

"I will not run like a coward while my people die!" Amaya screamed as she pushed herself to her feet, leaving him on the floor.

Looking around, she barely had time to duck when a corpse was flung straight over her head, slamming into the hut and falling limply against the door. It was mangled, bloody, but still in one piece- probably thanks to the chainmail and plate armor it wore, signifying itself as one of the villages warriors. Amaya paled again, but refused to back down, turning to face the carnage.

Azazel had to admire her courage, though forced. Amaya knew the odds were against her, but was willing to stand strong regardless. This made the vampire smirk a bit, despite his hazy mind. Truly, Amaya was worthy of his respect, though he doubted he'd ever admit it out loud. Looking to the corpse behind him, he knew what he had to do. Sitting up, and doing his best to scoot towards it, he took off the elf's helmet and stared into it's terrified eyes, it's mouth a permanent 'O' of horror.

The elven girl turned to Az and her eyes widened, seeing the lust in his unfocused eyes. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

He sent her a tired glare before sinking his fangs into the corpse's neck.

She screamed, and grabbed his shoulders to pull him off her fallen comrade, but his grip on the body was steel, his fangs keeping him anchored to the supply of blood. Fiery rage burst in her gut at the sight, the state of euphoria he was gaining from a dead friend. It made her sick, and just as she was about to deliver a swift kick to the side of his head, she noticed his calf. It had stopped bleeding, and was slowly stitching itself together.

Her eyes could not believe what she was seeing, for the muscle re-grew, the skin closing the gap to the opposite sides of the wound, the partially damage bone setting itself and healing back into perfection. The more he drank, the better it got, until the damage was undone, as if it had never happened at all. Only then did he pull away, his mouth coated in the crimson that had flowed through the veins of the deceased. Looking back at her, his ruby eyes flashed bright with new-found vigor as he stood to his full height.

_Lifelink_, Amaya thought. Lifelink was an ability that some creatures possessed, the ability to gain life force equal to the damage they caused another.

"You should know better than to disturb a predator during his meal." Azazel growled, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve, showing none of the mannerisms of before. "Now, since you refuse to run, it looks like we have one choice: fight."

Amaya blinked in shock, and so he smirked, "We'll stop that monster and save your village, together. Are you with me?"

Unsure of what to make of this, despite still filled with impotent rage and fear, she hesitated before nodding affirmative to his question. The vampire smiled, hiding his bloody fangs from the girl, and looked out towards the expanses of the trees that lay beyond their platform. The chains whipped and tore, killing and maiming, but all were coming from a single point, which made it easy to follow. His gaze tracked the chains, and noticed they were coming from outside the village, their point of origin somewhere in the wilderness nearby.

"If I had my library, I could be more useful." He muttered to himself, before taking off in the direction of the Ghoultree, using what remained of the platforms and bridges to his advantage, since they were still very high up.

Amaya followed close behind, letting him take the lead. She could still hear the carnage, and witness the massacre firsthand, but she refused to let herself stop. Despite Az being a monster, she drew strength from his courage, and remained by his side, never slowing down. The elven beauty refused to be useless in this crisis, especially when this vampire was proving to be braver than herself.

As they ran, they passed over corpses, dodged destroyed areas and elves who were fighting for their lives, the occasional chain- every obstacle merely annoyed the vampire. Not bothering to slow down, he leaned down and snatched a longsword from the body of an elven warrior and continued before they reached the edge of the village. Beyond the borders, the night sky and the shadows of the trees gave nothing away for the mortal elf, but Azazel's eyes were a boon at this moment. He traced the chains through the darkness, and about half a mile deep into the forest was what he was looking for.

Ghoultree rose up from the earth there, three leg-like roots lifted the massive monstrosity so it did not fully touch the ground. On the bark, faint glowing could be seen, and he suspected it was from the eyes of the dead it had consumed, their remaining life force and bodies giving the tree power and life. The branches of the tree were on the top of it's thick, grayish-brown trunk, thick and long like the fingers of a skeleton. Attached to each branch in varying numbers, and wrapped around it's trunk, were the beginnings of the chains that now tore at the village.

The undead mage looked to his companion and pointed in the direction of the tree, "It's over there, the tree. We'll need to descend to the forest floor to reach it."

"That could spell death for us!" She protested

"If your friend hadn't taken my library, we could have reached it without those odds." Azazel knew was not the time to jab at the elven girl's comrades, but he never did appreciate things being taken from him.

She growled at him and pulled out a card from her library, "Deadly Recluse!"

That cursed spider from before materialized out the air and on to her back, awaiting orders. Azazel shot it a deadly look, but the simple creature did not seem to understand nor care about the vampire's anger and previous humiliation. If looks could kill, Az was sure his glare was enough to take the life of hundreds of those arachnids and still have room for more.

The spider descended from her body, knelt by the edge of the platform, and then used it's web to grip the edge. The brown and black creature then jumped, web trailing behind it like a rope, until it reached the forest floor. Amaya quickly reached down to grab spider thread, and Az took note it was not sticky like the one that had captured him. She turned, jumped, and slid down the thread with ease until her feet touched the bottom. The spider crawled up her back and rested against her shoulder blades once again as the elf looked up at the vampire, her message clear.

The vampire slipped the sword through his belt and followed her example, reaching the bottom with ease, until a chain swung from out of the darkness and hit the web, flinging him in the direction it swung with the power of momentum. He collided with the tree they had descended from, the wind leaving his lungs as he fell the last two meters to the ground as the chain wrapped around the tree above him, tearing at the bark like a mad animal.

Amaya ran forward, worry etching her features. When she got to him, she went down on one knee and gripped his shoulder. He muttered something she could not hear before he pushed himself away from the tree, pulling her with him. He stumbled at first, tripping over himself, but she saw that the chains ran down the length of the tree, stripping the bark off as it went before unwinding and whipping back to the Ghoultree, unsuccessful in finding a meal.

If they had stayed there, that meal would have been their crushed corpses.

The elf gulped audibly, the spider on her back shifted nervously, and Az growled out vague threats to the monster tree with what little breath he could regain. They both stood up, slightly clutching each other for support as they did so. Azazel's eyes searched Amaya's for a moment before he broke eye contact and looked towards their target. They had to hurry, he knew, but part of him was still trying to register how he got caught up in this madness. After all, it had been a normal day for him, one of countless, and then bam!, his life was turned on it's head.

There were days he cursed whatever created him, and this was one of them.

* * *

At the base of the Ghoultree, under the cover of countless whipping chains and the dark of night, a lone figure stood. A dark, tattered cloak swayed with the wind created by the monstrous treefolk that he stood under, his hood pulled up to obscure what little features could be made out, leaving shadows in their place. What could be seen was a white porcelain mask, smooth and absent of human facial features aside from two almond shaped openings for the eyes. Under the eyespots were two painted eyes of the same shape, human in appearance, but the color of blood, with a second pair under them, making a total of three.

The result was a figure that revealed no emotion, no intention, other than the death of the village a short distance before it.

It would allow it's pet to consume all the life of the village, until it's mission was complete.

* * *

Azazel was doing his best to remain calm as they dashed from tree to tree, avoiding the deadly chains. Some were close calls, the metal links nearly taking off a limb or their heads, while others were completely avoidable, where the chains hit a nearby tree or stone, rather than coming close to them. Either way, Azazel was watching and listening, using caution rather than charging straight in. Something about this whole thing didn't sit well with the vampire.

Looking over his shoulder, he knew Amaya was too concerned and angry about the deaths of her comrades and friends to think about much else, other than burning that damn tree to the ground. He had to respect her resolve, for though her beginning was shaky, now she was determined to see this through to the end. The elf was more emotional than himself, and though that could be a weakness, right now it was proving to be an asset. Once they reached the tree, he was certain she'd prove herself.

Getting there was the problem.

The closer they got to the tree, the wilder it seemed to become, as if it sensed their approach, but was unable to pinpoint their location. Something told Az that this was due to the majority of the chains attacking the village, rather than remaining close, which probably meant that the attention of the creature was focused there, rather than here. He found that truly curious, for one would expect a creature to sense the danger and focus on defending itself, but this Ghoultree was not doing this.

Instead, it continued it's attack, and despite consuming the dead for power and life, Az knew that this behavior had to be irregular.

A terrible feeling of foreboding knotted in his gut, and before he could let his companion in on this, a chain swung towards them. He pushed Amaya in the opposite direction in the nick of time, for the chain smashed into him, sending the young vampire into a nearby tree once again. Sliding down, he grimaced as he attempted to stand. His eyes widened as he noticed three more chains rushing straight for him, for they had found their prey. Something struck him in the chest, and before he knew what was happening, was being yanked from where he stood and collided with something metal, knocking it down with a thud.

The chains impaled the bark of the tree, and freed themselves before slithering around, searching, feeling for their missing meal. Azazel opened his eyes, his forehead hurting from the impact, and used his arms to hold himself up. His face turned beet red when he saw that under him was Amaya, who looked equally embarrassed by their bodies in contact with each other. He was about to stammer out an apology when he noticed the chains getting closer.

Jumping to his feet, he pulled her up with him and ran with her hand in his towards the Ghoultree, dodging behind another large tree. Az pulled the elf girl close, and tried to catch his breath. It was at that moment he once again realized how close they were, and from the look of embarrassment, anger, and something else, he knew she noticed, too. Pushing himself away, he blushed, despite the dire situation, and muttered, "Sorry..."

"Pervert," she muttered back before turning to face in the direction they were heading. Her voice regained it's strength, though her body still trembled from the adrenaline rush, "Not much farther."

Azazel nodded, forcing himself to return to the matter at hand. "I hope you have some power in that library of yours, or this will end badly."

She shot him a glare, "Look whose talking, you don't have yours."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, bite me."

The spider, which he had nearly forgotten about, leap from the tree they were beside and on to his back. He shuddered in revulsion, and neglected to notice when the damn thing had left her back, but sighed in relief when it jumped off him and on to the ground before them. Amaya noticed his expressions and smirked to herself before they continued their journey to the Ghoultree.


End file.
